


don't know if it's morning or night (only know it sounded right)

by callunavulgari



Series: Holiday Writing Challenge '12 [11]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Genderswap, Multi, Polyamory, Public Sex, Sibling Incest, Slice of Life, Threesome - F/F/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 22:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/590157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sora’s never been entirely sure where his sister picked up quilting. The same little sister who wore their dads over-sized t-shirts and ratty board shorts until she was eleven, then promptly switched them out for ratty jeans and slightly less over-sized band tees. The same sister who picked up skate-boarding with the guys at the skate-park when she was eleven, dyed her hair green when she was thirteen, started smoking cigarettes and pot at fourteen, and got a tattoo of some random roman numerals when she was fifteen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't know if it's morning or night (only know it sounded right)

**Author's Note:**

> Day 11 of the Holiday Writing Challenge on tumblr [over here](http://giraffe-tier.tumblr.com/post/35469673249/winter-drawing-writing-challenge). Prompt was 'quilts'. My cute little snuggly drabble about quilts and girlfriends who have a mutual best friend in one of the girlfriend's brother kind of turned into vaguely incestuous slice-of-life smut. I don't even know.

Sora’s never been entirely sure where his sister picked up quilting. The same little sister who wore their dads over-sized t-shirts and ratty board shorts until she was eleven, then promptly switched them out for ratty jeans and slightly less over-sized band tees. The same sister who picked up skate-boarding with the guys at the skate-park when she was eleven, dyed her hair green when she was thirteen, started smoking cigarettes and pot at fourteen, and got a tattoo of some random roman numerals when she was fifteen.  
  
Roxas had always been the problem child. Their mother had despaired when her attempts to push make-up and dresses on Roxas was rebuked. Roxas was never mean about it, she’d just always known what she wanted.  
  
So, quilting.  
  
He’d started noticing it when they were cramming for finals one day in their junior year of high school. During their breaks between studying, he’d go out for a glass of milk and when he came back, she’d have a handful of fabric in her lap, doing something weird to it. The image didn’t mesh very well with the skater-girl look she had going on—kind of like how he’d look at her sometimes, sitting in his tiny room with its cloud wallpaper and milky-way bedsheets and think that she felt out of place, all short blonde hair tipped in black and nose piercings.  
  
It was weird, that was all.

 

.

  
  
It’s still weird, but the quilts now come in handy during the winter, because Axel and Roxas’ toes are always cold, and they tend to press them into the space beneath Sora’s knees just to hear him squeal.  
  
With the quilts, they just pile them everywhere—the ratty purple and green one thrown over the back of the couch and the blue and white one with the lopsided squares over the back of one of the chairs. Usually the chair doesn’t get much love, all of them piling onto the couch and tucking themselves closely together, but sometimes they’ll grab the quilt from the chair and drag it over to the couch.  
  
They keep the neat one with the clockwork-gear pattern in the bedroom, because it’s sweet as hell and the fabric she’d used on it is warmer than the rest. It had been a present to Axel for their four-years-dating anniversary, not to be confused with their four-years-engaged anniversary, because that one was way better.  
  
Sora never exactly minds that people think Axel&Roxas when they see them all together, that they get weird looks when their friends realize that Sora’s living with them. It’s always been Axel and Roxas, a very together-forever fairytale that had caused him a lot of grief when he’d first fallen for Axel, back before Axel and Roxas had turned into Axel, Roxas, and Sora.  
  
Axel was made for Roxas, willowy where Roxas was short and curvy, soft edges where Roxas was sharp. They fit together, more perfectly than Sora had ever met, so he hadn’t wanted to get in the way, even if the sweep of Axel’s hair against her slim neck made something flutter in his gut.  
  
And he hadn’t gotten in the way, living with Riku once they graduated and visiting Axel and Roxas’ place seldomly. It had sucked, but whatever. Sometimes life sucked.  
  
In the end, they had come to him. Or rather, they’d ambushed him one of the times he’d visited, Roxas cornering him up against the wall in all of her 5’3” glory and hissing a few choice words about how much of an idiot he was before she’d shoved him onto the couch and refused to let him leave until he made out with her girlfriend.  
  
Making out had turned into something a lot more—Axel grinning as she wriggled out of her panties and slid back into his lap, warm wetness sliding down onto his cock; mouthing at her nipple through the thin fabric of her ACDC shirt until it was wet with saliva; watching as Roxas held his gaze as she slid the shirt off over Axel’s head, red hair tangled and bright against her bare shoulders.  
  
He remembered gasping something about condoms and how they’d both given him this look, before Axel had laughed, loud and braying in the quiet and saying, “Just because I’ve been fucking a chick for three years doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I’m on the pill and we know you don’t have anything, so shut up and fuck me before I make your sister do it properly.”

 

.

  
  
And that was that. For a while it had just been very awkward visits to their apartment that was pretty much the equivalent of booty calls. Then it had turned into dates, him taking Axel out to concerts or the movie or just taking her to a park, where they’d smoke weed and fuck in the bushes until someone inevitably stumbled over them. Eventually it had turned into dates with all three of them. Adding his sister to the dates had been about as awkward as it had been with the sex at first.  
  
He’d eventually gotten used to having her eyes on him as he fucked Axel, or sometimes, when Axel fucked him. He’d gotten used to the way she’d touch Axel while they fucked—Roxas’ mouth on her nipple and Sora’s cock inside her; licking into Axel as Sora pressed kisses to her shoulders. They rarely touched each other, even if it happened sometimes, Roxas wrapping a hand around his dick to guide him into place or him gripping her hips to keep her from sliding out of Axel’s lap.  
  
The dates were easier to get used to.

 

.

  
  
The first time he fucked his sister they’d both had hysterics afterwards until Axel had smacked them.  
  
“We’ve been doing this for over a year, you fuckers. Pretty sure that there isn’t a clause that it only counts as incest if there’s penetration involved. You had mind-blowing sex with each other, congratulations. Now kiss each other, shut the fuck up, and let me get to sleep.” she’d hissed, still shirtless and draped across them both.  
  
When they finally had, she’d nodded at them. “Good, now go the fuck to sleep.”  
  
They’d asked Sora to move in the next day. “It’s not like you don’t practically live here anyway,” Roxas told him serenely, Axel’s arm wrapped around her shoulders and a half-finished quilt in her lap.  
  
It didn’t take long to move him in, because Roxas was right, he did pretty much live there. Most of his stuff had already been there.  
  
When they get married, he’s their best man. He makes a speech, dances with them both, gets spectacularly drunk and emotional, and later that night when they've all gone home, gets fucked spectacularly by both brides.  
  
Their relationship is pretty weird.  
  
But he’s happy with them—he’s happy with their little apartment, with the heaps upon heaps of quilts, the used furniture with the funny stains, and even with the weird artwork that they hang all over the living room.  
  
And besides, all relationships are a little weird if you look closely enough.  
  



End file.
